“B-boyfriend?” I repeated weakly.
The women giggled, one of them saying, “Oh, honey, if he’s not your boyfriend, then he’s trying to be one.”
I shook my head. “No, you have it all wrong. He’s my–” Stepbrother. But I couldn't say that because then they would judge, so I swallowed it down.
“Well, whoever he is, he’ll have a hard time looking away. I mean, look at you! You’re stunning!”
Me? Stunning? That sounded impossible. But as I forced myself to look at the mirror again and keep looking, I saw someone different. I didn't see something broken, or a mistake, or someone who disgusted others. I just saw… I saw a woman looking back at me.
I didn't see the mirror as an enemy as I kept looking. I didn't want to turn away and block the reflection. No, I wanted to keep looking.
“Here, let’
